


Seeking Comfort

by littletechiebird



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletechiebird/pseuds/littletechiebird





	Seeking Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [“I’m okay, really”](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/7550) by Julie/Kaciart. 



__

_It haunted him._

_His father’s lifeless face, the blood that was strewn all over the floor, pooling, the smell getting caught in his nose. As he sat on the floor, just inches away, out of pure instinct he drew part of his cape to try and cover his nose and mouth. It brushed against his bare chest and shoulder, helping in just the slightest with the smell that was making him sick like nothing ever had before. Somehow, his father’s blood smelled different. It smelled stronger than anything his senses had experienced before making it nearly unbearable. He did not tremble, nor did he shake. The shock was strong enough to overrule that and just keep him locked in place as if he would be frozen there forever. He was so still that he didn’t even seem to breathe. Remembering to do so was actually a task at that moment in time, but not one he was overly concerned with. It was something his body was trying to remedy by itself. His mind, in stead, was trying to process the sight before him. The shocked, pained, fearful expression that was fresh on his father’s face. The body was still warm. He swore he could feel the warmth from there, radiating to reach his bare skin. A warmth that he once sought out, that now made him feel conflicted. Made his skin crawl. Made him want to scream because it wasn’t right anymore._

_The body itself twitched as the muscles began to relax, feigning life and just making his heart rip a little more inside his chest. He could practically hear the sounds echo inside his ears, just like ripping an old t-shirt. His head was cruel to suddenly use his knowledge and imagination against him to play out the possible, and likely, events that had played out, a story being told by the ransacked house, strewn blood, and his father’s body. He had tried to protect himself, but he shouldn’t have had to. This was his fault. He had known his father was at risk. He should have protected him. He should have done more. His hands shakily lowered to the floor, helping him stay upright, because even his spine felt like jelly. Like gravity had gotten a hundred times stronger and he just wanted to disappear into the floor._

_He had his father’s blood on his hands. By not protecting him, he was just as responsible as the man who had actually killed him. It wasn’t as if that was any question as to whom it had been, though. At least he was dead too. But that wasn’t enough. Because only half of the problem had been solved. Tim still remained. A son who had not protected his father. A son who had put his father into danger._

_When he raised his hands and turned his palms up again, his eyes widened all the more as he saw the dripping red that was stained on his hands._

_He had his father’s blood on his hands._

 

“Tim?”

Waking himself from the memory, when he had never really fallen asleep, he felt the tighter stretch of the skin of his cheeks and under his eyes from the tears that had dried there. He blinked a few times, raising his hands to his face and rubbing to try and relief the odd tenseness that came with it. His eyes ached and still burned in the faintest sense. His nose remained stuffy as well, despite the amount of time that had passed since the last fit. He sat up, his back to the entryway of the room, and therefore, the man that had entered to begin with. His legs hung over the side of the bed as he stared at the junction of the wall and the floor as if it was suddenly going to tell him just whatever he hoped to hear.

“How are you doing, little brother?”

The question became a bit louder to his ears through the duration that it was spoken as Dick approached the bed. Tim stood, suddenly feeling the need to make a beeline for the bathroom because being around anyone like this made him feel a sudden panic because he wasn’t allowed to be like this, he couldn’t see him like this..

“I’m okay. Really.”

Dick had been asking time and time again over the last few hours, watching over him like a little wounded animal that had lost it’s way. Thinking about that fact made Tim clutch the sweater around him at the oversized sleeves. When he closed his eyes, he could still pick up the faint scent that was fading more and more every second — that was something that had sent him into one of the fits as soon as he had realized it. Even so, he couldn’t get himself to take off the warm, thick, blue sweater that was currently the only source of comfort that he had been able to scrape together for himself. It was far too big for him, but it fit him a lot better now than it had as a child. it was one of the only things he had left.. He remembered snuggling into it on nights where he missed his parents just a little too much, or as he grew older, when his guilt bit at him a little too much for the lies he spouted every day — even if it was for the best.

Though he didn’t see it, a soft, sad, yet understanding smile crossed onto the man’s tired features as he moved quietly to suddenly wrap the boy in a hug from behind, his right arm wrapping around Tim’s arm and across his chest to the arm on the opposite side, grasping his upper arm with a gentle but firm grip. Meanwhile, his left hand reached around to press itself against the boy’s forehead and carefully slip back, pulling soft, feathery bangs out of the way, though some fell back into place on the side of his face. The side that Dick planned on giving attention to remained clear all the same, and he closed his eyes, leaning down to press his lips to the boy’s temple.

The smaller male tensed, eyes trying to look around to him, giving him a look that looked nothing but unsure and confused. He glanced up at him out of the corner of his eyes from the position in which his head was slightly craned, watching the way he had shut his eyes, trying to pour so much comfort into that gentle touch of lips to his skin.

“Uh huh.” He said, finally speaking up, lips just moving against his temple. “I’ll decide that.”

Tim suddenly felt a bit defensive, even though a part of him knew that Dick had said absolutely nothing wrong.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?” His tone, though it remained a bit shaky and weary, had gained a tinge of stubbornness to it.

Dick opened his eyes, letting his head straighten to get a better, and closer, look at the one he currently held captive. His eyes were bloodshot, there were dark bruises under the bloodshot orbs, and under the bruises, and fanning out further, were small speckles of petechiae. His nose was red, and from how he was breathing, it was still stuffy. His pallor wasn’t too good either. He was far too pale. It made everything else that had already stood out to him, stand out all the more.

“No, because you already think you’re okay.”

Almost immediately, there was another stubborn response. “I am.”

Despite the glare, just as stubborn, that was paired with the tone of the same kind, Dick just raised an eyebrow to start his question of the boy in a silent manner. But then he went on. He asked one simple question.

“Whose sweater is that?” It wasn’t as if he had not know already, but it was a question to prove a point.

“My D-”

But Tim’s response died in his throat and he looked as if he had been stricken. Tired eyes widened for a moment as he realized he had been caught, only to be shifted away from Dick and back to the floor. The younger male chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments, which turned into several, his hands balling into tight fists as they clasped each other. “You suck, you know that?”

Dick only smiled again, soft, gentle, loving. He combed his fingers through Tim’s hair, repeating the motion a few times. He did not try to meet Tim’s eyes anymore, he just watched the way the strands slipped through his touch. “I love you, okay?”

There was just a short silence, but Tim soon nodded. The tired voice only rasped one more quiet response.

“Yeah, you too.”


End file.
